What's Past is Prologue

This week's quotation is by William Shakespeare, from The Tempest: "What's past is prologue."

Which could be interpreted to mean, do not think about the past - it is today and tomorrow which matter. On the other hand, human beings live sequentially - each one of us is the sum of all our yesterdays. We would not be the people we are today, were it not for the people and experiences in our pasts.

I guess that the use we make of our experiences is what matters. When bad things happen to us, as they surely will, sooner or later, it can be tempting to allow that bad experience to define who we are, how we approach and interact with everyone else. And to a certain extent, such caution is necessary; in the words of the old proverb "The burned hand teaches best." We can learn lessons from our past experiences, that is for sure.

But the natural human bent is to look forwards, rather than back. I love the words attributed to Kalidasa, which are quoted in the UUA hymnal, Singing the Living Tradition:

Look to this day!
For it is life, the very life of life.
In its brief course lie all the verities
and realities of your existence:
   The bliss of growth,
   The glory of action,
   The splendour of beauty;
For yesterday is but a dream,
and tomorrow is only a vision;
But today, well lived, makes every yesterday
A dream of happiness
and every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well, therefore, to this day.

I do believe that today is the only day that really matters. We can learn from the past, but we should not live there. And we can dream of the future, but only as much as we need to, to plan the work we need to do today.

Patience and Wisdom

This week's quotation was very timely for me. "Geduld ist die Gefährtin der Weisheit." by Aurelius Augustinus. Which being translated, means, "Patience is the companion of wisdom."

And I had little patience with the Google translation, which said that "Gefährtin" meant "danger". Then realised I had forgotten to put the umlaut over the "a". First lesson.

I think that what the author means is that if we try to rush ahead with anything, without taking the time to do the groundwork first, it will usually fail.

Fall flat on its face.

Ideas can inspire us, and we want to implement them straight away, but unless we take the time to bring other people with us, it is very possible that we will end up at the end of a very narrow branch, with someone sawing it off near the trunk.

In my own context, which is Unitarian ministry, this is especially important to remember. It often happens that a minister (or lay leader or committee member) has a wonderful new idea, then rushes off to make it happen, or to lay it before the committee, only to be met by lukewarm reactions, if not negative ones.

Unitarian ministry must be collaborative. The leaders in our movement must learn the patience to consult other people, to explain new concepts with patience, in order to help those other people feel his or her own enthusiasm for the project, whatever it is. This applies not only to BIG IDEAS, like removing the pews from a chapel, but also to small ideas, like moving the chalice from one place to another.

Change is difficult for most people. They are naturally resistant to change... very, very few people embrace it wholeheartedly, at least not at first hearing. So patience is needed to do the groundwork first, to explain the reasoning behind any new proposal, and to allow people time to mull the new idea over in their minds, so that they can ask questions about it. Leaders also need to be open to adapting new ideas, because someone has pointed out a flaw in our reasoning. This takes patience too, and also humility.

It is better to get people used to a new idea, by drip, dripping it slowly, rather than flooding their minds with it. Patience is the companion of wisdom.

Just Write

Yesterday, I attended my first ever Writing Retreat, organised by Writers' HQ. It started and 10.00 am and went on until 4.00 pm. There were hot and cold drinks on tap, and we stopped for two 15 minute breaks and one 45 minute lunch break. Apart from that, it was eleven writers, sitting around a square of tables with their laptops or notebooks, and just writing. We were asked to declare our goals at the beginning of the day, and I achieved mine comfortably. At the end of the day, I felt like this;

It was such a joy to be able to spend a whole day writing - no distractions, no phonecalls, no Wifi. Just writing.

And there are retreats for all kinds of creative talents going on around the country. A friend of mine recently attended a week-long icon writing retreat, and has come home with an exquisite icon of Christus Victor. And I know friends who have been on sewing retreats and created marvellous things.

I am so grateful to the people who organise these events, and allow people like me to "follow their bliss" in the words of Joseph Campbell. It would not have occurred to me that I could write for so long. And I was typing at my normal speed.

Of course, it was only first draft stuff but, nevertheless, I managed to get my ideas down on paper (or at least in Word document) and came away feeling fulfilled and proud, but also very tired.

The Key to the Door

This week's quote is by Charles Dickens. "Auch eine schwere Tür hat nur einen kleinen Schlüssel nötig." Which being translated, means: "Even a heavy door needs only a small key."

I have found this to be so true, throughout my life. It is possible to worry away at a seemingly insuperable problem, then inspiration comes, and everything falls into place. 

The metaphor of a key opening a door is a common one in our society. Without a key, it is difficult to step through the door of new knowledge, new insight. It is no accident that the word is also used to introduce the translation of lines on a graph, or figures in a diagram. Without the key, the graph or diagram remains incomprehensible. But with the key, it all begins to make sense.

Keys come in many shapes and forms, both literal and metaphorical. When I was growing up, it was a tradition to be given the key to the door of your parents' house on reaching the age of 21. 

"You've got the key to the door / never been twenty-one before." went the song.

In this case, the key is symbolic of the entrance into the world of adults. These days, children grow up far more quickly, and are considered 'adult' at the age of 18. By which time, many have had their own latch-key for years. And have been engaged in adult behaviours for years, too.

A key can also be a nudge from God, a revelation. Reading the first two pages of Alfred Hall's Beliefs of a Unitarian was a significant key for me, unlocking the wonderful faith of Unitarianism. It really did feel like a revelation from God, when I read those pages, more than 40 years ago. I felt as though I was stepping into a new world, which suddenly made sense to me.

Books can often be keys to new worlds of understanding. So can films, television shows and the Internet.

They can also unlock knowledge we would rather not have. But once the door has been unlocked, it is not possible to 'unknow' the knowledge it has been hiding. We have to incorporate it into our lives and, if it has alerted us to some evil in the world, it is our responsibility to do something about it.

Like Pandora with her box, we have to live with the knowledge we gain. Fortunately, we always have hope, the only virtue that remained when she had opened the lid.